I love working with clients about as much as I love teaching and guiding clinicians in training. Long ago I was taught a valuable lesson on knowing when enough is enough or when things are too much for our clients. We are all taught how to read physical and verbal cues in counseling 101 and related classes. We learn the value of subtlety that can be gleaned from the posture, mannerisms, choice of words and related things that our clients do (which is why I am not a fan of phone or internet counseling unless there is an urgent need that prevents in person counseling, but that is for another time).

When I sense a client has had too much I usually change the direction subtly through telling a story, asking a question about something benign or whatever feels natural at the time. Sometimes my clients catch on and know what and why I am doing it; other times they are confused but relieved that they have a short respite to collect their thoughts before moving forward. Years ago I asked my professor when to know that we have reached the point of needing to stop. He replied something along the lines of “you just know. If you are listening to your client and are paying attention, they will tell you without telling you.” At the time this left the class confused but with experience we learned that it was pure gold.

Setting limits can be hard as most of us in this field appear to want to “be the hero.” I don’t mean that in a negative sense; we want to make a difference. We want to help take away pain and replace it with hope for a better today and a happy tomorrow, but sometimes we want it too much and ignore the client’s need to take a break. The result can be devastating.

Recently I was asked this question by a newbie and gave my standard answer. When she wanted some additional explanation I recalled a story I heard from an old timer on the subject. It went something like this:

A new preacher in a rural area heads to a hamlet to give his first sermon to the residents; the hamlet is poor and lacks a formal church and instead meets in the local Grange Hall. As he enters the building he sees a lonely farmer sitting on a bench waiting for him. The rest of the room is empty. A bit let down and dejected the preacher asks the farmer what he should do in regards to the sermon. The farmer replies “well Padre, when I go out to the field to feed the livestock and only one cow comes forward I still feed her.” Inspired the new preacher starts out on a several hour hellfire and brimstone sermon to beat the band. Hours later, sweaty, exhausted but feeling like he just gave the best sermon ever; one that would impress ole Saint Pete himself, he steps down from the pulpit and asks the lonely farmer what he thought of the sermon. The farmer replied “Well Padre, when I said I would feed the lone cow, I never said I would make it eat the whole damn wagon.” With that he put his hat back on his head and walked out of the Grange Hall never to return to the preacher. The preacher learned that no matter how talented he was and no matter how good the message, too much, too soon or just as bad as not enough ever.

As we do what we do, let us remember that things happen not on our time, but on that of those we serve. Give them what they need to be sure, but just as importantly give them what they can handle. Though it is not easy to judge this, we should remain steadfastly determined to do things on their time.

A bit ago a client was talking about a very abusive situation. She was hitting a point where I felt she had run the risk of feeling too vulnerable too soon and may not have the ability to return to treatment should she go much farther. Exposed emotions like the nerves of a broken tooth can be so sensitive that we would rather run than let them be probed again. She was recalling the setting of some of the abuse and mentioned something benign. “What kind of dog was it? Did it have a collar or was it a stray?” She appeared a bit surprised at first but answered my queries before delving into her love of animals. A bit later in the session we returned to her abuse but this time she was a bit more relaxed and ready to deal with it because she felt safer and prepared. The session ended not with an exposed nerve but with a sense of completion. Months later she asked me about the dog and its importance. I told her I liked dogs and gave her a little wink. She told me that the dog question likely kept her in treatment because at the time she felt like she had just told what she thought of as a “dirty shameful secret and I just wanted to run and never come back.” By giving her a break she was able to collect herself and also feel safer with me in treatment because she knew she would not be forced to tell too much too soon.

Not every treatment attempt will be successful. We will lose clients, some will come back, others never will return but we can do things to increase the likelihood of success.

It appears my wagon is sufficiently unloaded so I will save the rest for another time. Be Well. Do Good.